


The Tale of Prince Charming

by WeirdSuicidal19568



Series: SEPTIPLIER AWAYYY - Tales by Yours Truly. Sincerely, Absolute Fangirl Trash. [7]
Category: Jacksepticeye - Freeform - Fandom, Markiplier - Freeform - Fandom, Septiplier - Freeform - Fandom, Youtube - Freeform
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, But you see, Cause Jack is the fairy Godmother, Cinderella AU, Fairy Godmother!Jack, It's Cinderella, M/M, Prince Charming!Mark, Prince Mark, Septiplier - Freeform, You got me, there's a TWIST, you get me?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7616422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdSuicidal19568/pseuds/WeirdSuicidal19568
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Mark Fischbach must be betrothed before he may take the throne. Fairy Godmother Jack, who likes to wear dresses and stockings, his here to help!</p><p>(Just read the tags everything's explained there)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tale of Prince Charming

**Author's Note:**

> Cause normal Cinderella AU's are used wayyyy to often.  
> *Looks at the normal Cinderella AU I have planned in my phone*  
> Shhhhh

Mark moved swiftly. The weapon in his hand slashed back and forth furiously. He moved quickly, with a precision not many possessed. He had been battling for some time now. He was playing with his prey, really. It was no fun if he won the battle immediately.

 

He heard the door to the room open, and with a quick leap and slash, the battle ended. Mark took off his helmet, smiling. The best part about fencing was that he actually couldn’t hurt anyone. He hated violence. He knew his way around a sword, of course, but he prefered fencing.

 

He turned to face the Matt, who had just walked in, while Ryan took his mask off, breathing heavily. They were his personal servants, ever since his last one, an older gentlemen named Bryan had passed away when he was ambushed. He had stumbled back to the castle, proclaiming to have been attacked by ninjas, before he gave his last breath.

 

It hurt Mark to think about the man who had been his caretaker, so he didn’t think about it often. “Prince Mark, the King has summoned you.” Matt announced.

 

“Is he in his chambers?” Mark questioned, de-suiting himself fully. He had given up on requesting them to drop the ‘Prince’ title a year ago.

 

“Yes, Prince Mark.”

 

“Wonderful. Thank you, Matthew. You did well today, Ryan.” Mark nodded to them both, before going to his room, changing out of his exercise clothes, into his ‘casual’ wear. He set a brisk pace to get to his father’s chambers, knowing that he didn’t appreciate being kept waiting.

 

He didn’t bother to knock as he entered; his father would be expecting him. He was met with the sight of his father standing on a pedestal, his personal tailor fluttering around him, holding lengths of measuring tape and sticking needles into the cloth cover the king.

 

“Is that the suit you're planning on donning for my coronation?” Mark said in way of greeting. He watched as his father twisted his head around, nodding to him before looking back at the grand mirror he stood in front of. Mark stood behind him so that Mark could be easily seen without having to twist around.

 

“I was planning on using it on your wedding day, actually.” Mark’s father said, giving his son a small smile. Mark chuckled, a bashful smile on his face.

 

“Father, we both know that day is most likely far off. It would be better fitting if you wore it for my coronation in three months time.” Mark said. His brother, Thomas, was supposed to be given the throne, but he had decided to go off at sea, helping their kingdom with trades and such things, and had told their father to give the throne to Mark, who would be much better suited for the throne than Thomas himself would be.

 

“Marcus, you need a bethroned before you may take the throne.” His father said, voice authoritative as Mark kept his face straight. He hated the name Marcus, and didn’t like the idea of having to take a ‘bethroned’ as his father put it. He was twenty seven, he didn’t feel nearly old enough to take the throne, let alone _marry_.

 

“Father-”

 

“Therefor, I will be expecting a wedding before your coronation come the celebration of the new year, or it will be postponed. Am I understood, Marcus?”

 

“Yes, Father.” Mark gulped. The king nodded in dismissal, and Mark left quickly.

 

Mark had things to do today. Lessons, classes, appointments. He would have to wait until the weekend to think about his predicament. Positioning his head high on his shoulders, though he wanted nothing more than to sit in his room despairing about his predicament. He wanted to marry out of love, if he married at all. He would never find someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with in such a short span of time.

 

~~~

 

It was finally the weekend, where he could have a proper day to think, when he wasn’t riddled with classes and practice and other such mumbo-jumbo that filled his life. He sat at his desk, still clothed in his nightwear, as it was early morning, the sun hardly scaling the mountains in the distance. With his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands, Mark let out a deep breath. He knew he would have to do this, if he wanted to take his position as king come the new year.

 

Mark didn’t particularly have a wish to rule over the kingdom. But he wanted to prove himself to his father. He wanted to show his father that he could be a good king, while he was still around. Mark knew his father wasn’t likely to live much longer, he wasn’t a fool. But while he was around he wanted his father to know that he was worthy, that he was able. Something that he hadn’t been able to show his mother.

 

Mark rested his forehead on his stationary, one arm over his head and the other dangling, playing with a quill that rested in its stand. He took a deep breath, letting the air clear his head as the chilly wind from his open window snuck in, gently ruffling his curtains.

 

“Ungodly time to be awake, don’t ye think?”

 

Mark choked on his own breath, spinning around and falling off of the chair he had been sitting in. He sat on the floor, arms propping him up as he stared at the new figure in his room with a ludicrous expression.

 

“How did you get in my room?” Mark hopped to his feet, eyes flickering around for his sword. Only for it to be behind the new person. Mark cursed mentally, tensing himself. He wouldn’t be able to call the guards from here, even if he shouted at the top of his lungs from his bedroom door.

 

“Calm down, would ye? Magic.” The person explained, accent ringing throughout the room, disrupting the stillness of early morning.

 

“Magic.”

 

“Magic.”

 

“Who in the blazes are you?” Mark backed up slowly, towards to door.

 

“I’m your fairy godmother. Names Jack. Nice ta meet you.” Jack smiled brightly, giving Mark a little bow.

 

Mark continued to inch closer to the exit. Jack rolled his eyes. “Would ye fookin’ relax? I’m not lying ta you. I can prove it.”

 

“You’ve gone insane. How did you manage to sneak into the castle?” If nothing else, Mark would be able to figure out how they could strengthen their defenses. Obviously, something was lacking if someone so...demented was able to get into the castle.

 

Jack rolled his eyes again. He waved the little stick in his hand _-was that a green_ eyeball _on the end of it?-_ and suddenly bright lights were erupting, stiling Mark’s footsteps as he stared in wonder, blues and reds and pinks shooting from the end of it. A few shot throughout the room, some came to swirl around him and had him twirling to follow them until they evaporated slowly.

 

“Wow.” Mark breathed. Jack gave a quirky little smile. “So... _the_ fairy godmother is Irish and has green hair?”

 

“It’s not just me.” Jack said, sitting on the bed. “There are loads of us. I’m not much different.” Jack explained, idly crossing his legs and resting an elbow on one, chin in hand. Mark retook his seat at the stationary, moving it so that it faced Jack.

 

“Do they make you all wear dresses?” Mark quirked an eyebrow, eyes furrowing in worry at the attire Jack donned, which he had never seen another man do. Of course, if a fairy wanted to wear a slightly frilly black, green and white dress, he supposed that was up to the fairy in question. _Were those stockings?_

 

“No. We get ta wear what we want.” Jack said, a shit eating grin on his face.

 

Mark didn’t take the bait. Just nodded slowly. “Alright..why are you here, exactly?”

 

“You were distressing. I decided ta see what I could do. That’s what we do, after all. Our job is ta help.” Jack said softly. “What’s wrong?”

 

Mark ran a hand through his hair, a habit he didn’t allow himself to have around anyone besides his personal servants. “I’m due to take the throne from my father in three months time. But he informed me earlier in the week that I must take a bethroned before my coronation.”

 

“There’s a bit more to it, isn’t there?”

 

Mark heaved a great sigh, bowing his head. He didn’t want to look at the pitiful smile Jack wore. “I have no wish to marry so that I may take the throne. If I was to ever take a spouse, it would be out of love. I can’t possibly find someone I would wish to spend the rest of my life with in such a short amount of time.

 

“You must take the throne?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then you must meet someone. Soon, and hope something good will turn up.”

 

Mark sagged against his seat. “How will I ever meet someone? I could be scouring the whole kingdom and turn up with nothing.”

 

“You gotta throw a fucking party!” Jack suddenly shouting, almost causing Mark to fall out of his chair once more, clutching his heart.

 

“What?”

 

“Er, a ball. You’ll throw a ball.” Jack amended, a sheepish smile adorning his features for a mere moment, before his excitement returned tenfold.

 

Mark blinked at Jack, a slow smile twitching his face. “That’s a marvellous idea. Thank you, Jack.”

 

Jack gave him a happy smile. “I’m glad ta. Is there nothing else I can do? Usually I’d have done some magic ages before now.”

 

Mark gave a small shrug, a happy smile on his face and hope in his heart. “No, that is unnecessary. Thank you for the help.” Jack gave him a big smile, which Mark returned. Then, suddenly, Jack was gone. Mark blinked, not having expected the handsome man to leave so suddenly. He shoved away his odd disappointment, and rushed to change so that he could talk to his father. He was done quicker than he ever remembered getting dressed, and his hair may have been a bit sloppy but that didn’t matter.

 

He rushed to his father's chambers, knocking on the door hurriedly. He heard a muffled acknowledgement and made his way in. “Father?” Mark called, closing the door softly behind him. His father sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes and making grumbled noises.

 

“Yes, Marcus?”

 

“I know what I would like to do. To find a betrothed, that is.” The king raised an eyebrow, staring at his son.

 

“Already, Marcus?”

 

“Yes. I would like to throw a ball. Invite the people of the land, perhaps some of our friends from the other kingdoms.”

 

The king yawned, standing slowly. “If that is what you wish, Marcus. It will take some time to organize everything, you realize?”

 

“Yes father, I know.”

 

“If you are aware, then that is fine.”

 

“Thank you, father.”

 

Mark left, hope blossoming in his chest.

 

~~~

 

Mark wandered around their ballroom, staring around in amazement. It was hard to remember the last ball that had been thrown, Mark had been young, he was sure. But the affair happening around him surely made up for the foggy memories littering his brain. Magnificent curtains lining the walls, all of them open to let in the moonlight, with extravagant chandeliers and candelabras lighting the ceiling and walls. A long table of finger foods and drinks lined the north wall, opposite to where the stairs leading up to the thrones sat, with the musicians off to the side of the thrones.

 

People meandered around the floor, some dancing, most talking to others. Many lovely gowns and sharp suits had been adorned, with hair styled and bright jewelry decorating the bodies of the guests. Mark would admit to spending most of his time talking to his friends from other kingdoms, Bob and Wade, but eventually he did have to dance with some of the girls, he knew.

 

The night held nothing extremely noticeable about the guests. It was just families and couples having fun, with most of the kingdom present to enjoy the night. But he did start dancing at one point, mingling with promising looking women.

 

Nothing special really happened, he felt, until he stumbled across one blond in a blue dress, walking along the walls by herself.

 

He had asked her to dance, not quite sure why he felt a little bit nervous. But she had accepted with a hesitant smile. It was a lovely song playing in the background, giving Mark a chance to immerse himself in the music for the first time that night. He was mainly grateful she didn’t step on his toes, honestly.

 

“Prince Mark, Sir Wadelyn has requested your presence.” Matt tapped him on the shoulder.

 

“Is it really necessary?” Mark asked, parting from the woman he had been dancing with.

 

“He just requested you, My Prince.”

 

“Matt, tell him that I will be a moment, alright?” Matt nodded, and walked off. Mark turned around again. But she was gone. Mark blinked, disappointment raging in his chest. She had...left? Mark slowly made his way to Wade, a frown on his face. 

 

~~~

 

In the upcoming days, Mark didn’t know what to do. He went about his days, and did as he usually did. But he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She had felt...like a chance. Something that hopefully wouldn’t be meaningless. And then she had just...left, without even saying goodbye.

 

He was getting ready for bed when he almost fell out of his window.

 

“When’s the weddin?”

 

Mark let out a small shriek, jumping _too_ close to his window in panic as he pulled the shirt roughly over his head.

 

“You need to stop doing that!” Mark gasped, clutching his heart. Jack, the little shit, laughed merrily.

 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

 

“Where’s the fun in giving me a heart attack?”

 

Jack rolled his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

“You almost made me jump out of my window.”

 

“What’s the name?”

 

Jack propped his chin on his hand, elbow on his leg as he did last time. Mark shook his head, sluggishly getting ready for bed. That was how he did everything recently. Sluggishly. Fencing was the only time he got his adrenaline running.

 

“I don’t know. She ran off before I could catch it.”

 

“So you don’t have a betrothed.” Jack said bluntly. Mark shook his head in remorse. Jack pierced his lips for a second, a look of conflicting emotions on his face, before it settled, not that Mark had seen it. “Then go fookin’ find her.” Jack jumped up, startling Mark with the sudden movement.

 

“Excu-”

 

“If you want her, you have ta go find her. Don’t just give up. That isn’t a quality of a king.”

 

“How am I supposed to find her?”

 

“Fookin look! You know what she looks like. Go knockin’ on some doors. If you want her that bad, you have ta make an effort. Now get off ye arse!”

 

“It’s nearly midnight.”

 

“Tomorrow, then. If I come back and see you here moppin’ about, I’ll slap the shit out of ye.”

 

Mark gulped. “Will do.”

 

Jack gave a bright smile. “Good!” And then he was gone. Mark shook his head, laughing. Jack was a strange character. He had worn a different dress that time, the blues in it bringing out the blue of his eyes.

 

Mark shook his head, clearing his thoughts and continued to ready for bed.

 

~~~

 

Mark was growing weary. He had done as Jack had said and commenced his search for the women he had met at the ball. Weeks had passed and he had yet to find her. He was growing worried, the cold sinking in as his planned coronation loomed closer and closer. He was on one of his last runs of the day, getting off of his horse with a heavy sigh.

 

He and his guards walked up to the door. He knocked on the door, patiently waiting, holding his hands together in front of him. His knuckles had started to hurt some time ago. He was ready to go home. Eager, even.

 

The door opened. Mark felt his breath catch. “It’s you.” He breathed out.

 

“Prince Marcus? May I help you?”

 

“You are the women I danced with at the ball.”

 

She frowned. “You danced with many, Milord.”

 

“No, you were special.” Mark shook his head. He had found her. He expected...he wasn’t sure. But confused and worried expression crossing her face wasn’t it.

 

“Milord, how may I help you?”

 

Mark felt his palms start to sweat lightly. He had imaged this many days, but now his words were leaving him. “Come back to the castle with me. Let me treat you.” Mark offered, holding his breath.

 

“Milord, I can’t. I didn’t come to the ball with any intention of catching your eye. I am deeply sorry.”

 

Mark’s expression crashed. He had spent so much of his precious time searching for her, sure that she would marry him. Only for this to happen. “Why?” Was all Mark could think to say.

 

“I must take care of my family, Milord. Ever since my father passed. I must care for my mother and sisters. I’m the only one who is able to work.”

 

“You needn’t work ever again. Not with me.”

 

She gave a small, sad smile. “Milord, thank you, but I cannot. I could never imagine leaving my family. I am sorry. There is nothing for you here.” She began to close the door, but Mark put an unsure hand on it.

 

“At least...will you tell me your name?”

 

“What good would it do?”

 

“I would feel better, knowing the name of the women I thought would become my wife.”

 

She gave him a pitying glance. “Amelia, Milord. Goodday.” She closed the door.

 

Mark couldn’t describe the feeling in his chest as he rode back to the castle. It was almost...relief. But that couldn’t possibly be right.

 

He apologized to his men and returned to his rooms.

 

~~~

 

“Still nothin’?”

 

 _“Will you stop fucking doing that?”_ Mark shouted, hitting his head on his backboard. He glared at Jack, breathing heavily while the Irishman gave him a grin.

 

“So, haven’t found her yet? It’s been a month.” Jack inquired, sitting cross legged on Mark’s bed, hands on his skirt to keep it down. Mark ran a hand through his hair, setting aside the book he had been reading.

 

“I found her. She turned me down.”

 

“What? Who would ever turn down someone as handsome as you?” Jack put a hand on his heart, affronted expression on his face. Mark chuckled, and Jack lost his pose with a smile.

 

“She needed to take care of her family. I respected that.”

 

“Ah, fook her! You can do better.” Jack made a discarding motion with his hands. Mark gave a laugh he immediately felt guilty for, before he realized how much he had missed Jack’s company.

 

“How come you don’t have wings? You’re a fairy, aren’t you? Or is that horribly racist?”

 

“Oh I have wings, I just never use ‘em.”

 

“May I see them?” Mark questioned. Suddenly, he wanted to take that back. It felt like a horribly intimate question, but Jack didn’t seem to mind, instead laughing.

 

“Maybe one day.”

 

Mark quirked a smile. “Promise?”

 

Jack snorted. “Promise.” He got a thoughtful look on his face, a flash of sorrow passing over before he smiled brightly. “Ye should throw another ball.”

 

“Another one, Jack? My coronation is less than a month away.”

 

“Ye coronation is on the new year, yes?”

 

“Yes, an-” Jack cut Mark off.

 

“Then throw it on December twentieth. That gives ye eighteen days to organize the ball.”

 

“And ten days to fall in love and get married.” Mark snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“There was a connection between you and the other girl, wasn’t there? Who’s ta say there wont be another?”

 

“It’s not likely, Jack-”

 

“Mark, the only way to make sure nothin’ will happen is ta not do it.” Jack said, no room in his voice for argument. “If you’re to take the throne, then ye have ta.” Mark heaved a sigh, rubbing his face and running his hands through his hair.

 

“Fine, fine. I’ll ask father tomorrow, alright?” Jack smiled, nodding. Mark rolled his eyes. “How’re things in fairy land, then?”

 

They spent the night away talking, until Mark was practically talking in his sleep. Jack tucked him in gently and left with a quiet _woosh_ of wind.

 

Over the next two weeks, Jack visited Mark nearly everyday. They spent time together whenever they could, when Mark wasn’t busy. They would go on horse rides and picnics, to secluded areas where Mark would sneak off alone, without his guard, so that Jack would show him some magic, completely mesmerizing Mark with each little spell. He once questioned why Jack would always say ‘Booper Dooper’ before he casted a spell. He explained how each fairy had their own signature, something that needed to be said to activate their wand, which was also special to the fairy itself (Jack’s indeed had a green eyeball on it, the step wrapping around the end of the wand, with tiny veins throughout it). Each fairy had a different wand and phrase, he explained. Mark was fascinated, as he was with most things Jack did or talked about.

 

Mark found himself noticing more and more things about Jack, things that most other people wouldn’t notice, he was sure. He found it odd, at first, once he realized he noticed that Jack cycled between four different pairs of stockings, though he seemed to favor the white ones with the little frill at the top, near the knee. He supposed it was because people who were around each other noticed small things, and left it at that.

 

The ball was four days away. Mark was becoming increasingly more nervous as it loomed closer, each minute with Jack helping him lose the tension in his shoulders, helping sooth his battered nerves. He was expecting another full day with Jack today, as had become the usual over the last fortnight.

 

Jack did indeed appear, but it didn’t go as Mark had expected. By now, he had gotten used to Jack appearing, he could even hear it, a quiet _woosh_ sound in the wind with his materialization. So when he heard it, Mark turned around from the letter he had been writing.

 

He knew something was off immediately. Jack didn’t wear his bright, ever-present smile. That alone sent off signals in Mark’s head. He stood, walking over to Jack. His hands itched to touch him, to make sure he was okay, but he controlled himself.

 

“What’s wrong? What happened? Is everything alright?” Mark asked hurriedly, eyes scanning the Irishman for any visible sign of something being wrong. Jack shook his head.

 

“No, I’m alright. I just…” Jack trailed off, scratching the back of his head. Mark could see a war of emotions on his face, only concerning him further.

 

“Jack? What happened?”

 

“Nothing, ye doofus. I’m fine. I just...I wanted to wish you goodluck.” Jack mumbled, giving a shaky smile. Before Mark could say anything, Jack was gone.

 

He didn’t see the man for the upcoming four days leading to his coronation. With every hour that passed and Jack didn’t make an appearance, Mark’s mood plummeted, until it was horribly sour the day of the ball. Not even seeing Danny and Arin improved his mood fully.

 

He lingered by the walls, _not sulking_ as he watched so many happy people merrily laugh and dance. He found humor in some of the couples, Danny and Arin making quite a show on the dance floor was the only to rouse a laugh from him in days.

 

He had been getting a drink from one of the many there were to offer when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. His mood sunk again. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He didn’t want to socialize. He reluctantly turned around, not registering for several moments who it was.

 

“You’re wearing pants.” Was the amazing thing Mark first said. Jack chuckled, pulling at the suit he was wearing.

 

“Yeah, fancy that.” He save a shy smile which Mark found _way_ too alluring, honestly. “It’s a bit weird, but I guess you want ta dress your best when you’re proposing, huh?” Jack let a little, embarrassed laugh out.

 

Mark blinked owlishly. “Wait, you-”

 

Jack handed a rose to Mark, halting his words, and his thought process, really. He took the flower delicately. “It won't die, ever. A charm I put on it.” Jack said softly. Mark looked back up at him. Mark tucked the flower into his coat.

 

“Dance with me?” Mark asked, holding out his hand.

 

“Fookin’ Jesus yes.”

 

~~~

 

Jack couldn’t remember the last time he smiled this wide. It was very cheesy, really. But as the church bells rang overhead, and he kissed the only person he could ever imagine or remember loving, he was fine with that. Snow decorated the building beautifully, as it would on a Christmas morning. Jack couldn’t imagine anything else, as he and Mark walked out of the church, settling themselves in a carriage to ride back to the castle.

  
He wished he could stay in this moment forever, absolutely glowing as Mark, his husband, took his hand and kissed him softly.


End file.
